


Course Correction. NC-17

by elzed



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-25
Updated: 2007-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25287643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elzed/pseuds/elzed
Summary: A story from a long long time ago in a galaxy far far away. Namely 2007... I'm importing old fics from LiveJournal and DreamWidth -nothing new, just revisiting and sharing old stuff with a pinch of nostalgia for the old days...
Relationships: Kara/Lee
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Course Correction. NC-17

**Author's Note:**

> A story from a long long time ago in a galaxy far far away. Namely 2007... I'm importing old fics from LiveJournal and DreamWidth -nothing new, just revisiting and sharing old stuff with a pinch of nostalgia for the old days...

That was my first venture into fic-writing for the BSG fandom

 **Spoilers:** Season One. Set during Kobol's Last Gleaming Part 1 (the morning after Colonial Day)...  
 **Wordcount:** 4,140 or so.  
 **Disclaimer:** The characters, alas, do not belong to me, nor does the show.

This piece has had the good fortune of being read over, tweaked, betaed and generally whipped into shape to within an inch of its life. Thanks to [](http://a-dawn.livejournal.com/profile)[**a_dawn**](http://a-dawn.livejournal.com/) ; [](http://cereselle.livejournal.com/profile)[**cereselle**](http://cereselle.livejournal.com/) ; [](http://algernon-mouse.livejournal.com/profile)[**algernon_mouse**](http://algernon-mouse.livejournal.com/) ; and my trusty beta [](http://overnighter.livejournal.com/profile)[**overnighter**](http://overnighter.livejournal.com/) , all of whom had a hand.

_**Course Correction** _

She blames Baltar. It’s all his fault. He just talked at her and groped her; kept her glass full and turned on his sleazy charm until she had no choice but to sleep with him. There’s a limit to how much provocation a horny girl can take – and with her, it’s set pretty low.

Who is she kidding? It’s _Lee’s_ fault. It’s _always_ been about Lee. Bastard looked so hot in his dress grays, and the face he made when he saw her just _melted_ her. And then he went and deserted her in mid-dance, leaving her ripe for the picking. Frakking Lee.

It’s easy to point the finger at the smooth talking silver-tongued Vice-President, full of flowery compliments (full of _shit_ ), master of the wandering hand, lecherous egotistical sonofabitch with come-to-bed eyes and an inexhaustible supply of ambrosia. She’d lost that battle even before he kissed her against the half-open hatch to his room (private quarters, lucky bastard) and they fell inside giggling, drunk. The whole night is spooling out in her booze-addled head as she comes apart under his thrusts.

Except for frakking Lee, giving her the once over, raking his eyes up and down her dress – _be my guest, Captain, me in a dress is a once in a lifetime opportunity_ – holding her close for a dance or three, hips moving with hers, whispering silly things into her ear, making her laugh until she’s giddy and flushed and wanting more, her panties damp, and then disappearing because of some petty last-minute crisis the stick up his ass won’t let him delegate, even on Colonial Day, even tonight, even when he’s dancing with _her_.

But in the end it really _is_ Baltar’s fault for being so damn skilled, so good with that silver tongue of his, with his deft fingers, that he topples her over into that seductive spiral of pleasure before she gets a chance to reciprocate. And when she closes her eyes it becomes all too easy to let herself imagine it’s Lee she’s bucking under, Lee’s ass pumping his cock into her, hitting that spot inside her again and again and again, Lee’s mouth on her neck, until she begins to come undone at the seams, her orgasm blossoming beyond her control, and she frakking _hears_ herself moaning his name, _oh, Lee_ , a split second before _Gaius_ stops dead, still hard inside her, and oh _frak_ that was a stupid thing to say, Kara.

Way to screw up.

After that, it all goes from bad to worse until she’s walking away from the hangar deck with a throbbing face to add to her hangover and to the growing humiliation of this absurd situation. Sleeping with Baltar was a genius move, even by her screwed up standards. Now Lee’s pissed as hell, despises her for bedding a pompous, self-serving, narcissistic asshole; and probably is a little jealous although he would _never_ admit to it. She feels angry, sore and cheap – and that’s usually not an issue, because Kara Thrace doesn’t give a flying frak what people think of her sex life, except when it’s Lee apparently.

_Frakking Lee Adama._

She’s also trying not to think about the look of hurt in his baby blues – and boy does he have baby blues – because that leads her more places she really shouldn’t go.

*****

Two hours and three piss-weak coffees later, Kara’s elbow-deep in flight evals and training modules, cursing under her breath at the amount of paperwork that comes with any step up the responsibility ladder. Her shoulders are tense and every time she absentmindedly chews on her pen her jaw protests. Worse, there’s still a raw feeling between her legs when she shifts around, and that constant reminder of her mortifying gaffe with the Vice-President is most unwelcome.

When Lee walks into the room they use as the pilots’ admin office, she debates briefly whether to make a swift exit, but stays put. No surrender. If Lee’s surprised to see her here, he doesn’t show it. He ignores her completely and sits at the other desk. The legs of his chair scrape against the metal deck and the sound grates in her frazzled brain. She looks at her hands, flat on the desk, covering her paperwork. Her nails need clipping. She tries to think of something, anything that isn’t him but fails. She’s so aware of his presence, slightly to the right of her, across the room, that she swears she can hear every breath he takes. Frak, if she focuses long enough she can probably make out his heartbeat.

It feels like an hour, but it’s probably only been ten minutes when she can’t take the tension anymore. She’s gone over the same sheet of paper blankly again and again, and still she can’t tell which nugget’s name is on the eval; doesn’t care. She’s damn sure Lee hasn’t turned a single page of the report he came into the room with.

His question keeps echoing in her head, plaintive: “Why d’you do it, Kara? Just… just tell me why?” and sure, she is a screw-up, but that’s not even the start of it. She couldn’t tell him it was because she wanted his mouth on her skin, his fingers on her breasts, his cock inside her, and just the thought of it makes her clench.  
  
So she stands up and walks slowly around her battered desk, counting exactly five paces from her seat to right in front of his, and clears her throat.

“I’m sorry, Lee. I really am.” He raises his head slowly, his look wary – borderline hostile if she didn’t know him, know his tells – the way he cricks his neck sideways when he’s nervous; the twitch in his jaw; the almost imperceptible tattoo his index finger beats on the table.

“Listen, can we just drop it, Kara?” He’s wound up tighter than a drum, to the point where she almost feels sorry for him, until she sees his eyes and, _gods_ , he looks angry and desperate, his pale eyes overlaid with blown pupils in a stare that makes her stumble.

“I, er… It’s not what you…” Her tongue feels swollen in her mouth. She can’t speak and her breath is shallow and constricted. It’s the scene in the hangar all over again; she’s half-bracing for impact, even though she knows he wouldn’t hit her first, never has.

“I don’t want to know, okay? I don’t _want_ to _know_. I don’t need you to explain how you fell into bed with the Vice-President. Just – leave me alone. I have work to do.” His gaze has dropped back to the papers on his desk, the report which she swears he hasn’t begun reading and he’s flushed, a mottled crimson blush on the side of his neck, and oh _gods_ this is bad.

Kara tries to smirk and comes up with a grimace. It’s a good thing Apollo’s not even looking her way. With both fists jammed in the pockets of her fatigues, knuckles pressing into her thighs, she feels belligerent and a little childish. She rolls one shoulder then the other and stretches her upper back with a sigh. Still Lee refuses to look up.

She takes a breath – tastes that metallic tang in the back of her throat, like licking the barrel of a gun, she used to think when she first got posted to _Galactica_ , now just the taste of home . She tries to stop herself from pushing him but she can’t; it’s Lee and she cannot stand it when he’s angry and hurt and pissed at her. It’s like picking at a scab or popping a zit – Kara’s never been able to leave well enough alone.

“C’mon, Lee, it wasn’t a big deal – I screwed up. Why are you being such an ass?”

The moment the words come out she knows it was stupid mistake number two (or three, whatever) because Lee gets up from his chair and then he’s in her face, which is infinitely worse.

“You really want to know, Kara? _Really_?”

Shallow breaths matching hers, that flush creeping up his neck, so close she can smell him. Suddenly it’s so patently obvious that he’s aroused, that _she_ is, that Kara is amazed that she’s been able to ignore it entirely until just this minute. Denial is a remarkable thing. Colliding hormones, though, are much less subtle.

“First off, I don’t think much of your taste in men. He might be the frakking Vice-President but Baltar is a creep. And a slut.”

Now that she knows how much sex is in the room, she can practically hear it in his voice. Frak. _Frak_.

“Second, I just don’t get why you keep doing this. Why you keep frakking with _me_ ,” he says, grinding it out through clenched jaw. Oh, so easy to supply the missing word here, because of course this is all about why she’s _not_ , and this is the closest, by far, that they’ve come to putting all their unresolved sexual tension issues on the table like a mess of laundry in need of sorting.

Under her feet she can feel the vibrations of the ship, a comforting hum; but in her mind Kara’s whisked back to when they met at the Academy, and how the first time she clapped eyes on Lee Adama she wanted to sleep with him. Somehow she’d failed to during basic training, and then it was too late. They’d become friends, and worse, rivals in the cockpit.

 _For frak’s sake, why don’t you guys just have sex and get over it?_ her roommate Mercia used to say when Kara was moaning about Apollo’s latest display of self-righteousness. But if it had been that easy she would have, years ago. Except she figured that wouldn’t have been the end of it, and Kara didn’t do relationships. Not with by-the-rulebook cadets, and certainly not with fellow pilots. Until Zak, of course, and then that froze out the Lee option for good. Or perhaps only until the end of the world.

“What makes you think it’s about you, Apollo?” she retorts, hoping to hell her voice sounds better out loud than it does in her head.

She takes her fists out of her pockets and places them squarely on her hips. In confrontation mode, she just does defiant. Also, it makes her breasts look good, and Kara Thrace is not above giving herself an edge to prove a point. Even when she isn’t quite sure what the point is.

It works. Rather better than she expected, actually.

Next thing she knows, Lee’s hand is on her left breast and he’s rubbing his thumb across her painfully erect nipple. It sends little shivers of desire down her spine, and it feels so damn _right_ – even if it is the stupidest thing she’s ever done – that her lips part automatically, and her eyes half-close in expectation of a kiss that doesn’t come.

They’re nose to nose, almost cross-eyed, and she can feel Lee’s breath on her face . Still he holds back, while his thumb continues its slow teasing, until she gives up the pretence of letting him make the first move and leans in to kiss him.

“This does,” he mumbles just before their lips meet.

She can feel him smile into her kiss, which makes her want to giggle, and also smack him for being an arrogant bastard, except that he’s right, and all the aggression of five minutes ago has evaporated.  
  
She’s not exactly humble herself, so it’s not like she’s best placed to complain. Not when his tongue is in her mouth, in a delicious invasion that overwhelms her senses, flooding her with pleasure and a raw, pulsing need.

Lee’s other hand snakes behind her neck, cradling her skull, and their kiss deepens. She already knew he was a good kisser – too many drunken parties at the Academy for their mutual attraction never to surface – but it never went further than that. And Hades’ _teeth_ , this is going further or the frustration will kill her.

Their tongues are dueling, probing each other’s mouths frenziedly, triggering the kind of intense erotic arousal that she hasn’t felt for a long time. Baltar just doesn’t register. Whereas Lee, _Lee_ is a frakking walking bunch of pheromones and every single one of her cells is responding to him, until she’s pressed against him, full body contact, feeling his heartbeat in her chest, his hard cock pulsing against her hip, his thigh between her legs, and she whimpers into his kiss.

It would be embarrassing if it weren’t so damn _hot_.

There’s months – years, really – of pent-up desires and urges breaking loose, and even Apollo’s affinity for repression and self-denial can’t keep that lid on. He’s spun Kara around, crowding her against the cold steel of the bulkhead, molding his body to hers, his mouth as insistent on hers as his erection is against her mons, the friction seriously threatening to send her over the edge already.

It’s not usually her style to let the guy take the initiative, but there’s something about Lee that makes, quite literally, her knees go weak. Maybe that’s why she’s always been wary of giving in. It scares her how easily she spreads her legs for him, surrenders. Kara Thrace is all about the taking, not the giving, and while it’s fine to let her hormones do the talking, she’s feeling way more vulnerable than she’s used to.

Also way hornier, and when his hand slides into the waistband of her fatigues and down, fingertips brushing her clit, it sends a jolt through her body that makes her whack her head against the wall.

“You ok?” Lee whispers into her mouth. The only way she can answer him is by biting his bottom lip and thrusting her pelvis up towards his hand, silently begging for more.

He touches her again, more accurately this time, two fingers right on her clit, through her soaked underwear, and this time Kara cries out.

“You were saying?”

She can hear that smug smile in his voice again, but she really doesn’t care anymore. Lee’s managed to open up her pants somehow, and push them down, together with her panties, now halfway down her thighs and his searching fingers are slipping _inside_ her – oh, so wet, so frakking wet for him, gods – curling into her sweet spot, just _there_ , and she is completely losing it. His other hand’s busy pushing her tanks and bra out of the way – boy knows how to get access quickly – so he can latch his mouth on a nipple, tease her further, take her higher.

Like a twisted echo of last night, she can hear her voice moaning his name, _Lee, oh Lee, oh gods Lee, please Lee._ Thankfully this time when she opens her eyes, just as she crests the wave of her orgasm, it’s _his_ face she sees: blue eyes dark with dilated pupils, mouth slightly open in wonder, looking every bit as hot as he does in her fantasies when she masturbates for him, makes him watch her come.

“Frak, Kara,” he swears, his voice thick with desire.

She exhales a long moan, shuddering, and then his mouth is back on hers. His lips and tongue crushing hers in an avid openmouthed kiss, swallowing her last whimpers, one hand tangled in her hair, cradling her head, the other still cupping her throbbing sex.

It’s like this first taste of pleasure has just sharpened her need, because Kara is all of a sudden extremely aware of the hot bulge of his erection digging into her thigh, and how much she wants him to frak her stupid.

Her hand creeps down his side and around his hip, following the crease of his thigh, until she’s brushing against the stone hardness of his cock, and he bucks his hips involuntarily.

She does it again, dragging her knuckles all the way down slowly. This time he stifles a groan in his throat, pulling away from her. His sweaty brow rests against her shoulder and she can tell his eyes are screwed shut. It’s worth undoing a couple of buttons on the sly, to touch his hot skin, wrap her hand tight around him, caress his shaft with long downwards strokes, coaxing a strangled moan from him that tastes like victory.

Apollo doesn’t like to lose control. So it feels like a vindication to hear him utter those helpless sounds, his flesh twitching in her hand, completely at her mercy. Kara’s heart is still thumping in her chest, her legs shaking, but she’s no longer helpless.

“So help me Zeus,” she murmurs, pushing him gently back so he’s no longer leaning against her. She lets herself sink to her knees, dragging his pants down with her free hand until they pool at his feet. There’s no mistaking her intent. Lee’s almost fit to burst in her grip as he watches her with eyes so hungry she’s thankful she’s already on the ground, because that look would fell her.

“So, Captain, you gonna beg?” she whispers, her eyes locking with his in an attempt to pretend she’s not as turned on as he is, that she doesn’t want this as much as he does.

“Please,” he breathes, and she has to exert all her willpower not to act. Gods, his _voice_.

“You can do better than that.”

“Please, Kara. _Please_?” he repeats, and that’s it. She cannot resist – still holding him with one hand, she parts her lips, darts her tongue out and licks the tip of his cock, earning a gasp.

“Oh gods, yes!”

He tastes musky and salty as she wraps her lips around his head, descending slowly, and she’s reminded of how much she enjoys this. She loves the feel of a silky hard cock under her tongue, every little twitch and throb magnified against her lips; the blissful sense of power as he groans and gasps under her ministrations; and the intense burning flame it awakens in her, because she frakking _loves_ giving head.

Lee’s so keyed up he can’t possibly last, so after she’s dragged her tongue up and down his length, leisurely, taking him deeper each time, she pulls off and looks up. He’s staring at her, jaw clenched, breathing heavily, barely hanging on.

“You wanna come in my mouth, Lee?” she asks, and she doesn’t bother to hide the smirk on her wide mouth. “Or you wanna frak me?” Her voice drops, seductive. “See if I measure up to your wet dreams, flyboy?”

A brief look of shock and then he laughs.

“Kara, if you want something, just ask for it, okay?”

Damn him, she loves the way he can see right through her shit.

She flutters her eyelashes at him.

“Please, Lee. _Please_?” and although she’s kidding, she really wants it, the length of his cock sliding deep inside her, filling her, driving her into another climax. She wants it more than anything else, and apparently he can read it in her eyes because he reaches a hand down and pulls her up. They’re eye to eye again when he kisses her and blankets her with his body, pushes her back up against the bulkhead and Kara is kicking off her pants, shaking them off one ankle and spreading her legs, feet firmly anchored on the floor as Lee bends his knees and nudges his cock against her slick opening.

“Holy frakking frak,” she breathes out when the head brushes her engorged clit before slipping past her swollen labia – good aim, flyboy – and then Lee grins devilishly at her and just drives himself in to the hilt, lifting her off the ground.

“It’s your funeral,” she says, winding her legs around his waist. She’s not much shorter than Lee and she’s no waif. It can’t be easy for him to carry her weight while pistoning his hips into her like this but, by Aphrodite, if he wants to he can because it feels amazing. She cannot believe that after all this time, all the wanting and waiting, she’s finally frakking Lee Adama. And he’s _good_.

Every thrust hits that spot inside her, the one that sends her to orgasm quicker than anything else. She’s grunting like an animal, the sound ripped from her throat with each thrust, charting her ascent to climax, step by step.

Lee is silent, his breath labored, his muscles trembling with the strain. She catches his eye and he’s _gone_ , completely AWOL, his blue eyes unfocused, and that’s it. Kara shuts her eyes tight and howls her pleasure – _Frak, Lee, yes, yes, YES!_ The sheer strength of her orgasm takes her by surprise. Her heart feels like it’s exploded inside her chest and she’s shaking as the ripples of her climax roll through her body, wringing more exhausted delight from each cell.

“Oh _gods_ ,” is all Lee moans when he lets go.

His cock swells inside her and pulses for what seems like an eternity, sparking off more nerve endings, and she knows she’ll have hand-shaped bruises on her ass come tomorrow because he’s holding onto her for dear life, his fingers digging into her flesh. Eventually his legs start to buckle and Kara just manages to unwrap herself from him before they collapse onto the cold floor in a messy pile of limbs and discarded clothing.

Silence reigns for a couple of minutes, punctuated by heavy breathing and muted groans as they shift into an awkward post-coital embrace, his arm around her shoulders, her face in his neck, their calm only just disturbed by the sound of a hatch wheel being spun.

“Shit!”

“Didn’t you dog it?” he asks, and Kara wants to punch him. Like she planned this whole… _thing_.

“No! Did _you_?”

Lee shakes his head, and then flashes her a devilish grin as he stands up and vaults across her to get to the hatch before whoever is on the other side gets it open. She wants to whoop when he makes it, engaging the lock just in time, but defers to the need for stealth.

“This room is out of bounds!”

“Sir?” comes a muffled voice through the hatch. Sounds like Kat.

“Strategy meeting for senior officers, Lieutenant. Beyond your security clearance.”

When lying, always try to keep as close to the truth as possible. Lee’s obviously got this one memorized.

Kara wonders, idly, how many of the pilots already assume she’s frakking Apollo, and whether she cares. Probably not, on balance, especially now that she really has. Still, worth making sure they don’t step out of here together looking smug – and leaving the room reeking of sex and happy hormones.

“Want some help with your pilot evals?” he says in her ear when he returns, catching her unawares. He smells of sweat and sex and woody undertones, a warm spicy smell that she’s always associated with him, even when it’s concealed under the tylium fumes that permeate the olfactory universe of the Viper pilot.

Kara smiles.

“Sure. Maybe we should put our clothes back on first, just in case.”

“But I like you naked,” he whispers in her ear, and she’s back to being the horny adolescent of earlier, especially when he trails his hand down her inner arm, tracing her veins along the crook of her elbow, the inside of her wrist, leaving a ghostly imprint behind.

“People are going to talk,” she breathes out shakily.

Lee shrugs.

“They already do.”

“We don’t usually lock ourselves in the office.”

“Well maybe we should. It’d make dealing with the paperwork more fun.”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“What paperwork?”

They eyeball each other for a couple of minutes, grinning like fools, until Kara can’t resist it any more.

“Except of course that you’re the CAG, and I’m a pilot who can’t keep her pants on.”

Lee winces as she goes on.

“And Tigh will wet _his_ pants at the opportunity to throw us in the brig until the end of time.”

“Could be interesting.”

“In separate cells, dumbass. Eternal frustration.”

“Ok, I give up,” Lee sighs, and he picks up her BDUs, tossing them to her. “Just promise me one thing.”

Kara considers his tone of voice, still playful, and nods as she pulls on her pants. There are a thousand reasons they haven’t done this before – above and beyond frat regs – but somehow, right now, it doesn’t matter.

“Next time, can we keep the vice-president out of the foreplay?” Lee says, smirking, and ducks her punch with a fluid grace born of frequent practice.

Frakker.

Make that a thousand and one.

_fin_  



End file.
